Evan Rosier leaned against the chipped brick wall of a dingy pub in Knockturn Alley, the orange glow of his cigarette flaring in the shadows as he inhaled deeply. The night hummed with danger, thick with the undercurrent of whispered deals and curses lurking just beneath the surface. His wand was tucked casually into his jacket pocket, but his hand rested close to it, a habit born from a life lived on the edge. His sharp blue eyes scanned the alley, waiting, though his usual impatience was tempered by anticipation.
Barty always made him wait.
It was their thing, really. Evan would light up, pretend not to care, and Barty would come striding out of the darkness, all wild-eyed and disheveled, as if the world could barely keep up with him. And then they’d set the night ablaze.
He’d just stubbed out his cigarette when a familiar figure appeared, sauntering toward him with an air of chaotic confidence. Barty’s hair was messier than usual, and his clothes were splattered with something—ink? Blood? Evan didn’t ask. Barty grinned, the kind of grin that made people uneasy because it promised mayhem. Evan loved that grin.
“You’re late,” Evan drawled, but there was no real venom in it.
“You love it,” Barty shot back, his voice low and rough. He stopped in front of Evan, their eyes locking. “Had to tie up a loose end.”
Evan raised an eyebrow but didn’t press. Whatever Barty had been doing, it wasn’t something he wanted details about. Not tonight.
“Ready to go?” Barty asked, pulling a silver flask from his pocket and taking a swig before passing it to Evan.
“Where to?” Evan asked, tipping the flask back. The firewhiskey burned its way down his throat, leaving a pleasant warmth in its wake.
“Anywhere,” Barty said, his grin turning wolfish. “Everywhere. As long as it’s with you.”
Evan rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t hide the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And you love it,” Barty countered, echoing his earlier words.
Evan’s smirk deepened. He did. He’d never say it outright, of course. That wasn’t how they worked. But in their world—dark, twisted, and full of betrayal—Barty was the one constant. The one person Evan trusted to have his back, no matter how unhinged he could be. Maybe because of how unhinged he could be.
“Let’s go, then,” Evan said, tossing the empty flask back to Barty.
They moved through the alley like predators, sharp-eyed and electric. The night was theirs to conquer. They ended up at a party somewhere in London, a Muggle nightclub that pulsed with neon lights and pounding bass. Evan didn’t question how Barty had found the place; Barty had a knack for that sort of thing.
The crowd was a blur of sweaty bodies and flashing lights, but Barty and Evan moved through it like they owned it. Barty pulled Evan to the dance floor, his hands gripping Evan’s hips as they moved together, the rest of the world fading away. Evan wasn’t much of a dancer, but with Barty, it wasn’t about the dancing. It was about the way Barty looked at him, like Evan was the only thing in the room that mattered.
“You and me,” Barty murmured into Evan’s ear, his voice barely audible over the music. “Against the world, yeah?”
Evan turned his head slightly, their faces close. “Yeah,” he said, his voice steady despite the chaos around them. “You and me.”
Later, they found themselves on the roof of the club, the city sprawling out beneath them. Barty leaned against the railing, a cigarette dangling from his lips. Evan sat on the edge, one leg swinging idly over the side.
“What are we doing, Barty?” Evan asked, the question slipping out before he could stop it.
Barty glanced at him, his expression unreadable. Then he shrugged, a sharp, almost defiant gesture. “Living. Surviving. Whatever you want to call it.”
Evan let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. “You make it sound so simple.”
“It is,” Barty said, his voice firm. He walked over to Evan, crouching in front of him so they were eye level. “It’s us, Evan. That’s all that matters. Screw the rest of it. The war, the cause, all of it. It’s just noise.”
Evan’s breath caught. He’d known Barty a long time, but moments like this—moments of raw honesty—were rare. He nodded, a small, almost imperceptible movement.
Barty stood, offering his hand. Evan took it, letting Barty pull him to his feet.
“You and me,” Barty said again, his voice quieter this time but no less intense.
“You and me,” Evan echoed, and for the first time in a long time, he felt like it might actually be enough.
The silence stretched between them, heavy but not uncomfortable. Barty’s hand lingered on Evan’s wrist, thumb brushing idly over his pulse.
“You feel that?” Barty asked, his voice a murmur. He stepped closer, close enough that Evan could feel the warmth radiating from him, their breath mingling in the cool night air. “That’s all we need.”
Evan didn’t answer, not with words. Instead, he closed the gap between them, his lips crashing against Barty’s in a kiss that was as wild and messy as the both of them. Barty responded instantly, his free hand tangling in Evan’s hair as he pulled him closer, deeper. The city below faded away entirely, leaving only the heat between them, the raw intensity of their connection.
When they finally pulled apart, both breathing hard, Barty’s grin returned, softer now but no less wicked.
“You and me,” he said again, his voice a whisper against Evan’s lips.
Evan’s answering smile was small but genuine. “Always.”
But Barty wasn’t done. His hand drifted lower, fingers curling around Evan’s belt loop, a silent tug asking permission. Evan let out a breathless laugh, his head tilting back slightly as he leaned into the touch.
“You’re insatiable,” Evan muttered, but his voice was tinged with amusement.
“And you love it,” Barty shot back, echoing his words from earlier in the night. His grin widened as he pulled Evan closer, their bodies flush against each other now.
The air between them was electric, the city lights casting shifting shadows across their faces. Barty pressed his forehead to Evan’s, their breaths mingling in the cool night air.
“It’s you and me,” Barty said, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down Evan’s spine. His fingers traced patterns on Evan’s hip, slow and deliberate. “Nothing else matters.”
Evan’s hands found their way to Barty’s shoulders, gripping tightly as if to anchor himself. “You make it impossible to argue,” he murmured, his voice soft but filled with emotion.
“Good,” Barty said, his lips brushing against Evan’s in a ghost of a kiss before capturing them fully again. The kiss was slow this time, deliberate, as if they had all the time in the world. For once, it felt like they did.